Something To Hold On To
by RaceTheWind10
Summary: Lilly/Calleigh CSI: Miami Cold Case crossover. WARNING: femslash. SPOILERS. Set after the events of Cold Case 2nd ep of new season and Miami 6x15 All In Lilly thinks Calleigh may be the thing she's holding on to


**Title: Something to Hold On To**

**Pairing: Calleigh/Lilly CSI: Miami/ Cold Case crossover**

**Rating: NC-17 bit of smut…and angst.**

**Disclaimer: Ha! I wish**

**SPOILERS: For Cold Case, the first new episode after the strike. For Miami, 6x16 All In**

**Warnings: Er..none?**

**A/N: Sort of loosely follows my other Calleigh/Lilly fics, but can't really be considered a series. Stand alone but implies some kind of established relationship.**

* * *

"_The job gives your life meaning. When the job is taken away… you're nothing… She broke… just like one day you will to"_

Smith's voice was mocking; haughty. He was trying to goad me and I knew it. Once I would just have smirked; pushing his words aside like so much dust and told myself they were empty: a lie tossed into the darkness like a lure to snare me into his sick game. I was driving, the white line an arrow leading us through the night and I kept my gaze fixed firmly forward. He couldn't see my face.

I didn't smirk. I couldn't.

"_No"_

My voice was raw when I denied his claim and I could practically i_feel/i _Smith smile from the back seat. What he didn't seem to catch onto was the fact that the emotion behind my words had nothing to do with fear.

"_What gets you out of bed in the morning Lilly? Everyone's got something they're holding on to."_

I don't know what this thing is between us, but it has, in Smith's words, a "special significance. I need her. I've tried not to. I've tried to keep it purely physical but she's gotten under my skin; a skin that seems to burn when she touches it; that tingles with electricity at her ocean gaze; that's known the touch of her lips and fingers.

I didn't answer Smith's taunting question of course; playing that sociopath's game any more than Scotty and I had to, to find Brenda would have been a disaster. It didn't stop my mind from tracing the path of his words and following them to the inevitable conclusion. Like sunlight in the dark, it was both startling, and welcome…like her.

I think that _she_ might just be what I'm holding on to. Not her body, or her mind, or even her heart with its pulse fluttering beneath my fingers, but the way _I feel_ when I'm with her. Its the safety and the understanding, like something in her soul reaches out and fills the holes that have been torn in mine; smoothing over the cracks and the fading the scars.

* * *

I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She smells like the breeze coming off the ocean and her hands caress up and down my spine, as constant and gentle as the kiss of the waves on the shore.

The sun outside is molten and lazy as it slips toward the horizon, but before it reaches its destination, it saunters through the massive picture window and bathes the bedroom in liquid gold. Her hair is spread across the light drenched pillows and her eyes sparkle back at me like tiny seas. Tiny, clouded seas. There's a shadow in her gaze that wasn't there the last time we met and an ugly bruise spreads across one side of her ribcage, marring her flawless skin.

I've never thought of her as fragile, and seeing this sudden evidence of her mortality tears at something in me even as my fingers slip through her hair and I marvel at its softness.

I don't ask though – not yet. The time for words hasn't come and I feel need slowly rising again within me. My tongue slips out to taste her, trailing along her jaw to nibble at her earlobe and her eyes flutter gratefully closed even as her slender, sinuous form shifts beneath mine and her breath catches.

It's always like this when we're together; like the hunger becomes a living thing that takes us over, eclipsing everything beyond the reach of our hands and mouths. There is no past or future when I'm with her; there is only the now. Her body responds to me like a finely tuned instrument and I force myself to play a gentle tune. We have all night and I want this to last. I need it to last as long as possible and I try not to think about how – each time we're together – the fleeting nature of what we've built becomes just a little bit harder to accept and I find that I want _more_.

That _more _however,is the future, and for the moment there is no place for it here.

The sounds of her frustration make me smile but I take my time, kissing along the curve of her ribs as they rise and fall with her desperate breath; cupping the perfect swell of her breast and teasing its peak; tracing with my lips the line of her hip and across to the silky skin of her inner thigh. One of her hands tangles gently in my hair even as the other grips the sheets until her knuckles go white. I know what she wants but I draw it out, savoring the control I have over her and the beauty of her complete trust. When I finally take her with my hand and mouth, the wet heat of her body is like coming home. My fingers move inside her and she tightens, her soft cries becoming crescendo until I feel the release wash over her, the last notes of her breath escaping in a sigh.

For a time neither of us moves, content to drift in the calm of the moment. I rest my head on her thigh, stroking her stomach with my fingertips as she struggles to calm her heart. My own body hums pleasantly, like a piano wire vibrating in sympathy to its kin, but I don't feel any urgency. This is neither the beginning, nor the ending of what we'll share.

The sun is hidden now and the last, rich purples of twilight are giving way to the moon outside. With a negligent hand she turns on the tiny lamp by the bed and it casts a small glow. Pushing myself up, I rest beside her, visually tracing her features in the muted light.

It's rare for us to speak of the events that precipitate our being together; that bring one of us to the other's city. As I trail my fingertips over the livid bruise on her ribs and she kisses my cheeks, just below eyes that are bruised and shadowed by a lack of sleep from the nightmares that still haunt me – I let the question fill my gaze.

"What happened Cal?"

For a moment I don't think she'll say anything, and then a tangle of emotions races across her face and I see the weariness settle in her eyes. Her voice is soft; the southern accent little more than a hint of warm, humid afternoons and clear blue skies, but her words are heavy with pain and anger, helplessness and fear. They are emotions I don't associate with Detective Calleigh Duquesne and it makes me ache to hear what she endured. To be kidnapped would be horrible, but for a woman – a cop – of Calleigh's integrity, to be forced to help cover up a crime would be far, far worse. Still, I can't help the tiny swell of pride when she tells me how she managed to leave a trail of 'bread crumbs' for her colleagues. She downplays her role, but I can fill in the blanks – the terror of discovery, the agony of hope – it must have been Hell. I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have…I'm not sure what exactly. Something in me refuses to believe in the happily ever after no matter how much I wish it were possible.

And ultimately, it's in the past. All I can do now is take her into my arms and kiss her, letting her know she's alive, and safe.

I should have known better than to think she would leave it at that though.

With a gentle twist, she brings her body atop mine and for a moment I revel in the fit of her curves against me. She presses gentle kisses to my face, then props herself up to pin me with a gentle stare and my question is returned to me.

"What did he say Lilly?"

She's resting on top of me, her soft weight an anchor that I wrap my arms around and cling to as her words summon memories of that darkened car ride back to Philly, trying to discern the truth in the words of a true sociopath; of the anger and helplessness and the terrible, fragile hope that Brenda was still alive.

I'm not sure what it would have done to me if she hadn't been, but she was. Smith was wrong, Brenda _was _strong enough.

Looking up, I see understanding and compassion in the eyes above me and as I reach up and capture Calleigh's lips again, feeling not just the hunger, but the emotion and the connection that lies beneath it, I know I am too. Somewhere along the way, _she's _become the thing I hold on to, and when she looks at me I and I see the strength in her sea eyes, I know I won't break…not yet anyway.

Fin


End file.
